


let's hear it for the boy

by d_v_whelan



Series: the bitch of living [5]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-11 18:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17451860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_v_whelan/pseuds/d_v_whelan
Summary: moritz has a really bad time at prom.





	let's hear it for the boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ernnsts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ernnsts/gifts).



> title is from 'let's hear it for the boy' by deniece williams.

There were so many things Moritz hated about high school—so many things that if he had a therapist, and if they tried to ask him what the root of all his problems was, he wouldn't even know where to begin. 

He made a point of avoiding most school events, especially ones where there would be a lot of people yelling and a lot of people making out in public like wild animals. Of course, he couldn't escape all of them; he still went to all of Melchior and Hanschen's theatre performances, Georg's piano recitals, Otto's band concerts, and Ernst's art shows. That wasn't even mentioning Otto and Georg's STEM presentations or the choir concerts he himself had to be in.

But this was truly the worst of it. The be-all, end-all of terrible high school events. _Prom_.

Moritz knew that for people like Melchior, this was one of the only events put on by an establishment that you could truly enjoy because you got to spend it with your friends. For people like Ernst, it was a great place to finally dance with your boyfriend without your Catholic parents finding out, and for Georg it was the perfect time to see if Miss Grossebustenhalter was wearing a low-cut dress.

But for Moritz, this was quite possibly one of the worst things he could get himself into. He'd been dreading it for the past week, his nightmares becoming—

" _Moritz_."

Moritz looked up. "What?" 

Wendla turned around in the front seat, eyeing Moritz with a mischievous grin. "I _said_ , aren't there any girls you want to see tonight?"

Moritz grimaced. He didn't even want to see girls out of their school uniform, much less talk to any specific one. 

"No. What makes you think that?" He answered shakily, trying to communicate telepathically with Melchior to get him to change the subject.

"Oh, come on. There has to be some girl you like. Aren't there any cute girls in your creative writing classes?"

"Come on, leave him alone," Melchior said from the driver's seat. "He's with us tonight."

Wendla shrugged and turned back around. "I just want him to have a good time, too." She then laughed giddily, changing the subject almost immediately. "Oh, look, we're here!" The event center the school had booked loomed before them.

Moritz stared out the window in silence as Melchior searched for a parking spot. He tuned out Melchior and Wendla's chattering and wondered if he could just stay in the car until it was time to go home, thinking about how much daydreaming he could get done in that amount of time. Unfortunately, Melchior would never allow that. When Melchior and Wendla got out of the car, Moritz begrudgingly followed, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Dozens of students from their school poured out of cars as well, and some of the more pretentious ones were arriving in the limousines they'd rented for the night using their daddy's Catholic money. Moritz couldn't imagine placing so much importance and wasting so much money on something like that, but well, Moritz didn't understand a lot of things other people his age did.

Their table was in the center of the hall with a good view of just about everything, and that was thanks to Hanschen's brilliant planning. He was currently sitting there with Ernst, his arm draped around his shoulders.

"Hey," Ernst greeted the three of them as they approached in his meek voice that all except his friends pretended they couldn't hear.

"Hi Ernst," Moritz said as he sat on the other side of him. He made eye contact with Hanschen, giving him an awkward smile that wasn't returned.

"Are you ready for three hours of this?" Ernst asked, nodding his head at the already screaming groups of teenagers.

"No. I'm not ready for the two hours Melchior will force me to spend at the after party, either." 

Moritz was sure the after party would be worse—he would definitely try to convince Melchior to let him sleep in the car during that. 

Ernst leaned into Hanschen's arm. "Maybe my mom can drive you home instead. She's picking up me and Martha exactly at midnight."

"Which I think is completely disappointing," Hanschen added. "But I suppose we'll have other nights." 

Moritz grimaced in embarrassment, thinking about what sort of things Hanschen wanted to do on those other nights. Quickly he changed the subject. "Um—uh—maybe—where is Martha, anyway?"

Ernst had officially asked Martha to prom to show his parents that he was perfectly straight, but naturally this was a mutual agreement—Ernst would leave her to be with Hanschen all night while Martha would spend it with Anna. 

Ernst shrugged. "She's with Anna and Thea in the bathroom. Thea is crying over a boy, or something."

"What?!" Wendla interjected, standing up promptly and heading there, leaving Melchior alone. The last words of their conversation were still leaving his lips as she dashed away.

Hanschen and Melchior started a conversation in the meantime; Moritz heard Melchior saying something about Shakespeare and immediately tuned them out.

"I like your, uh, outfit, by the way," Moritz said, gesturing to Ernst's velveteen bowtie. Moritz also had a bowtie, but his was a clip-on and much less snazzy—he didn't actually know that Melchior had bought him a ticket to prom until the week before, and he scrambled to get something to wear at Walmart. Unfortunately for him, that last minute decision had left him with pants that were too short that made his long legs look even longer and his big feet look even bigger.

"Thanks! He picked it out," Ernst said with a big smile, referring to Hanschen. Hanschen was wearing a suit in a matching maroon color that looked like it cost more than all of Moritz's clothes combined.

Just then Otto and Georg came up, taking their seats and greeting everyone and increasing the table's volume by ten. The girls returned shortly after, and Thea sat red-faced in silence as she glared across the hall at some other couple Moritz couldn't see. Martha and Anna were too engrossed with each other to greet Moritz properly, and now everyone was having a conversation except him.

He took his phone out, feeling that after a few minutes of social interaction he could take that liberty. He had barely put his password in when it was snatched from his hands by Melchior.

"Come on, Moritz! You can play on this later." He set it on the table in front of him. "Oh, everyone, shut up! Let's hear whatever stupidity they have to say." 

Normally, Moritz would argue for his phone back, but he didn't want to cause a scene and especially not in front of the girls. With a glare in Melchior's direction that went ignored, he turned his attention to the student council members talking at the front of the hall.

He mostly tuned them out as he stared into space. He caught statements about making sure not to drink, no grinding—something about Catholic respectability—or excessive PDA, driving safely; that sort of thing. Moritz was perfectly content to sit at their table for the rest of the night while he watched his friends dance, so he couldn't care less about the rules that didn't even apply to him.

Not long after, the food was brought out, and conversations at the table once again erupted. In no time Moritz could feel himself getting hotter and sweating more, and he wondered how anyone was going to be able to dance in a room so stuffy. He took his suit jacket off and hung it off his chair, craning his neck to see if anyone else had done the same to make sure he didn't look like an idiot.

"You think this was worth postponing D&D for?" Georg asked, nudging him.

 _No._ "I don't know. Do you think it is?"

"My answer is right over there. Look at Miss Grossebustenhalter. Those are a different kind of double Ds I wouldn't mind spending my Saturdays with." Georg pointed across the hall at the busty band teacher he'd been infatuated with since freshman year.

Moritz rolled his eyes. "That's disgusting. Can't you think about girls your own age?" Hypocritical for someone who'd searched MILF at least a few times.

"Oh, whatever, Moritz. You think about girls your own age and instantly jizz your pants."

Moritz cringed at his word usage and at the insult, but he couldn't think of anything smart to say in rebuttal. "Whatever, Georg. Your glasses look dumb." That wasn't particularly clever, but Georg always got riled up about it. He scowled at Moritz and took them off when he thought he wasn't looking anymore. 

Moritz turned his attention back to his plate, stirring around the pasta salad he didn't particularly want. For one, he hated eating in front of other people, and two, he'd already eaten 27 pizza rolls before he left his house. Everyone else was nearly finished when he looked around, so he quickly ate as much as possible so he wouldn't be left out; it was too much vinegar and not enough cheese, he decided, and reached across the table for his glass.

He knocked elbows with Ernst, who was also reaching for his glass, and Moritz's awkward motor skills failed him when he tried to grip his tighter; it fell on its side and its contents splashed off the table and into his lap.

"I'm so sorry!" Ernst said, grabbing a handful of napkins and thrusting them frantically in Moritz's hands, which were trembling now. 

"Sorry—sorry," Moritz muttered, trying to clean up the mess on the table first so no one noticed. It was pretty clear that half of the girls were already laughing at him and that Hanschen would have been if not for Ernst being there. His face felt hot and red, and he realized he would have to go to the restroom to clean the mess on his pants, lest he remain sticky the entire night.

"Do you want me to come help you? I'm sorry," Ernst repeated, his big brown eyes wide with sincerity.

"Thanks, but I've got it." Moritz mustered up a smile which barely reassured Ernst.

He stood up slowly, wincing as he felt the Diet Coke drip down his pants leg and onto the floor. As casually as possible, he pushed his chair in and headed for the hallway.

"Hey, Moritz, where are you going?" Melchior called over to him.

"Um, I just have to, uh, go. I'll be back in a second." Moritz quickened his pace and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally got to the hallway. It was unlikely that anyone had watched him leave, but he couldn't help but feel that everyone was staring anyway.

Moritz leaned against the wall just outside, cursing under his breath a few times as if that would help at all. He looked down with a frown, wondering why everything always had to go wrong for him. With a sigh he headed to the actual restrooms. 

They were empty, much to his relief, and he took to the sink to frantically splash water on himself and hope for the best. He was so focused on the running water that he didn't notice the door opening.

"Oh, shit, Stiefel. Crazy seeing you here."

Moritz jumped at the voice, turning around with a start. Water dripped from his hands and pants onto the floor. 

"Um… hey, Bobby," Moritz said sheepishly, trying and failing to cover his soaking wet crotch. Robert Maler stood in the doorway, his eyes darting from Moritz's pants to his face.

"Didn't think this was really your thing! Or is that why you're in here?" He glanced again at his pants, quirking an eyebrow.

"No! I mean, I spilled a drink on myself. My friend spilled a drink on me. Uh, I don't really like these types of things, no. But Melchior made me come." Moritz turned back to the sink, grabbing fistfuls of paper towels to speed up the process so he could get away from Bobby Maler.

"Gabor! Man, the whole gang's out tonight, huh? You still hang out with that Ernst kid? Oh, by the way, are him and Hanschen dating?" Bobby leaned against the wall casually, his loose tie making him look like a sleazy used car salesman.

Moritz stuttered, "Um, no. I don't...know." _Shit. Real smooth._ "I mean, they are friends, though. And they're here. Together." He shrugged nonchalantly, not daring to make eye contact.

Moritz cared about Ernst, and this would turn into an ordeal for him if it went badly; Ernst wasn't exactly _out_ to anyone except his small group of friends, much less to anyone at their Catholic private school. Bobby and Hanschen had dated extremely briefly in sophomore year, and apparently Bobby had never gotten over him. The guy was supposed to be charming, but Moritz couldn't see it. Apparently Hanschen hadn't seen it since those two short months sophomore year; in fact, he actively hated him now.

Bobby Maler nodded as if in deep thought. "Right. Yeah. It's funny 'cause that Robel kid is kind of a loser. And it looks like they were being kind of touchy."

"Don't call him that! Stop questioning me!" Moritz snapped, turning around to get more paper towels. He was intimidated by pretty much anyone, and especially at that moment, but he _really_ wanted to be left alone—and any insult to Ernst made his skin crawl.

Bobby laughed. "Jeez, okay. Forget it. I don't care anyway. Say, uh, you know what I think you need?"

Moritz made a move for the door, deciding he'd had enough and that his pants would be okay, but Bobby was standing right in front of it. He wasn't blocking it on purpose, but Moritz was too awkward to ask him to move, and he felt obligated to stay in this conversation.

"Um. No." _I need you to leave me the hell alone and let me get out of here._

Bobby gestured to his pocket. "Adderall. I got some with me now. Six dollars a pop. You got six dollars, Moritz? It'll cure your, uh, neuroticism." 

"No thank you!" Moritz almost shouted, his voice cracking. He finally pushed around Bobby, using his elbow to push the door open. He hurried down the hall, too nervous to check behind him and see if Bobby had followed. "Bye," he squealed, feeling a little guilty.

His pants were still wet, but he figured anything was better than getting stuck in a conversation with Bobby Maler. He went back into the dance hall and saw that the actual dancing had begun. To his horror, it was a slow song, and couples were actually dancing _together_. Moritz eyed his table and found it deserted, save for Otto and Georg, who were discussing something on Georg's phone. Moritz made his way over, sliding back into his seat.

Not far from where their table was, Melchior and Wendla were paired up, Melchior's hand just a little too low on Wendla's back and Wendla pressed far too close to his chest. But concealed behind them were Ernst and Hanschen, no doubt avoiding any teachers that might have known Ernst's parents and inquired as to why he was dancing with a boy. Smart—any teacher looking at that side of the room would be drawn to the purposeful inappropriateness of Wendla and Melchior's dancing and not to Ernst and Hanschen.

He was happy for his friend, but the sight made Moritz sad. Jealous, more like, but he would never admit that; not even to himself. There were a lot of moments like that. Not just with Ernst and Hanschen, but whenever he saw anyone being happy and genuinely enjoying themselves. Moritz hated the feeling of helplessness he always got, and he knew it was pathetic, but that was the sort of thing that haunted his dreams. It was such a teenager thing to say, sure, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Of course, a lot of those dreams became dreams that ruined his sheets, but it was his daydreams that really got to him. He beat himself up about it constantly, knowing that he was the one who controlled them, but there was something so bittersweet about imagining himself as being actually happy.

"Moritz, dude, are you okay?" Otto put his hand on Moritz's shoulder.

"You're staring off into space," Georg added, ignoring whatever YouTube video was blaring from his phone. Moritz cringed.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine." He gave them a weak smile. "I'm just tired." He noticed that Ernst and Hanschen had disappeared.

"You should call your mom to come pick you up if you don't wanna be here," Otto suggested.

Otto usually knew what to say at moments like this, but Moritz shuddered at the thought of calling his mother. He hardly talked to his parents as it was, and when he did it usually turned into a game of which parent could make him feel the worst in the least amount of time. He would rather sit at a terrible dance for three hours than go home to them.

"Nah, it's okay. I'll just probably sit here for a while. Are you guys gonna dance?"

"When the slow shit stops, yeah. The dance floor is calling my name," Otto said with a laugh. Moritz always felt small compared to his confidence, even though he was a whole six inches taller than him.

"I'm trying to wait for the perfect moment to get Miss Grossebustenhalter to pity dance with me. Maybe you can do the same, Moritz." Georg leered at the teacher who was going around checking couple's distances. 

Moritz laughed nervously. "Um, no thanks. You guys have fun with that stuff. I think I'll just, uh, sit here for the rest of the night."

"What? Come on, Moritz! Dance with me and my other friends. You can't not dance at prom." Otto shook his shoulder a bit in a friendly manner.

"Uh, no. I don't like dancing. I'll have more fun over here, trust me." He reached over and grabbed his phone from where Melchior had left it. 

Otto dropped his hand and shrugged. It was clear that he wanted to keep trying to persuade him, but there would be no getting through to Moritz when he didn't want to do something, and that was often. Moritz genuinely wouldn't have any fun dancing, though; he would rather die than make an idiot of himself in front of everyone.

Georg motioned for Otto to look at something on his screen again, and Moritz turned his own phone on, grateful for the distraction. 

He scrolled through Reddit mindlessly, skimming posts, just glancing at titles and barely smiling when he saw a picture he liked. After a few minutes of that, the music on the dancefloor suddenly became very upbeat, and the bass rocked through the floor. Moritz could feel the vibrations in his shoes, and hear his heartbeat in his head.

"Be good over here," Otto said suddenly, giving Moritz's shoulder a squeeze.

He then immediately ran to go find his other friends, and Georg followed, leaving Moritz alone. That was perfectly alright with him, but the music change made him anxious, and the people dancing rowdily made him feel like the room was getting smaller and hotter. His neck was slick with sweat and his hands were so clammy he couldn't even touch his phone screen properly. 

Moritz jumped up, making a beeline for the doors. The hallway was still too hot for his liking and the music was still too loud, so he headed for the doors outside, searching for some solace. Instead he found Hanschen and Ernst.

Ernst was against the brick wall, his hair tousled out of place with Hanschen's hand running through it. Hanschen's other hand was gripping his back, and Ernst's hands on Hanschen were so low that Moritz blushed. The kissing sounds were even more unbearable to him than the music, and he tried to discreetly go back inside.

"Moritz!" Ernst's voice suddenly squeaked, and Moritz gritted his teeth. _Of fucking course. Please, God, let me die._

"Um, sorry. I just came to um, get some, uh, air. Sorry. Bye." Moritz took one look at Hanschen's smirk and ran back inside, somehow more hot and sweaty than he had been before. He really hated thinking about his friends in sexual situations.

Trying to get the image out of his mind, he headed for the doors at the other end of the hallway. Hopefully there wouldn't be anyone making out there. 

To his relief, it was deserted, if not a little sketchy since it was the back of the building and there was a dumpster nearby. He sat on the concrete steps, staring off into the middle distance, letting the cool evening air wash over him. 

He sat like that for a long time, his mind wandering for who knows how long. Eventually he took his phone out, opening YouTube and looking at his recommended videos. _'All of the Songs from Grease, ranked.' Thirty minutes, huh? I've never seen Grease but let's get right to it._

Moritz was about to press play when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It frightened him so much that he jumped and lost control of his phone, playing an intense game of hot potato with it for a few seconds before it finally landed on the step below him. He grabbed it and whipped around to see who had touched him.

It was Ilse Neumann, a girl from their class who had dropped out earlier in the year because she started getting involved with the local art scene. 

"What are you doing here?!" Moritz exclaimed, getting up to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" Ilse cocked her head.

"I go to this school! I mean, uh, this is my school's prom. Anyway. But what are you seriously doing here? Isn't it like, illegal?" He had been friends with Ilse in elementary school, but they were so different in terms of what they liked to do and who they liked to hang out with that they drifted apart before freshman year.

"Illegal? It's illegal for people to go places now?" Ilse sat on the railing, kicking her feet with her eyes staring off into the night sky.

Moritz furrowed his brows. "Um, I think it's called loitering."

She looked back at him, laughing. "I'm just waiting for somebody who said they'd meet me here. You seem a little stressed out. Do you need anything?"

Moritz's eyes widened. He understood the implications of all that; whoever she was waiting for was obviously going to sell her drugs, and she was clearly offering him some of those drugs now. He shook his head frantically, wanting to get out of there before whoever this person was showed up. "No! Thank you." _Offered drugs twice in one night. This really is high school._ "I think you should go home, Ilse." _Please stop doing drugs._

"Home? Well, what really is home?" She laughed breathily, leaning back on the railing, and Moritz worried she would fall.

"Why are you acting like a philosopher? Are you high right now?" Moritz hadn't talked to Ilse much throughout high school, but he felt less anxious and less awkward whenever he did; it probably had to do with how she was never really there mentally in the moment.

Ilse jumped down from the railing. "Always, Moritz. On life, whatever. But I did smoke weed before I got here."

Moritz went back up the steps, opening the door. "Whatever you say, Ilse. Goodnight. Please be careful." He gave her a tight-lipped smile and went back inside, wondering why he was getting roped into so many weird conversations that night.

"You too, Moritz," she called, and Moritz wondered if she meant goodnight or the part about being careful as well. She was strange enough to mean both.

He went back into the dance hall, and his table was still deserted as everyone was preoccupied. Most of them with dancing, but Hanschen and Ernst with something else outside, apparently. Moritz didn't want to think about it.

He returned to the table, once again turning on his phone. There he would remain for the next two hours, oblivious to the changing songs and people coming back to the table to get drinks or sit for a moment. It wasn't until he heard the student body president talking up front that he came back to reality.

Moritz set his phone on the table, ready to hear who had won Prom King and Queen. He had voted for Melchior and Wendla, of course, just like most people. He saw Hanschen and Ernst come inside from the hall just then, and they approached the table.

Ernst's hair was a mess, almost as bad as Moritz's, and his clothes were disheveled in a way that said he'd tried to straighten them out and mostly failed. Hanschen had a smug grin on his face.

"Uh, hey, guys. Where were you?" _God, wrong question. Why did I just ask that?_

Ernst sat down and cleared his throat, looking nervous. Clearly they were going to pretend Moritz hadn't seen them making out outside. "Just talking in Hanschen's car. It got a little too loud in here."

Hanschen's smirk and their unorganized appearances said otherwise, but Moritz really didn't want to think about it. "Oh. Cool. Um, they're about to announce Prom King and Queen, I guess."

They listened to the student council rattle on about useless things and the junior court until finally the announced the winners:

"And the winner for Prom Queen is… Wendla Bergmann!" The crowd erupted in cheers, but it eventually faded when they realized that Wendla wasn't there. 

"Uh, Wendla?" The president said into the mic again, a little louder, but he was met with silence. After a moment he shrugged. "Well, sucks for Wendla, then! The Prom Queen runner-up is Marianna Wheelan!" 

The cheers went up once again, and Moritz clapped absentmindedly as he watched Anna take the stage and get crowned.

"Alright, and the winner for Prom King goes to… Melchior Gabor!" Again, cheering met with silence. A repeated plea for Melchior to come up front met with silence. 

"Jesus, is anyone here? Well, the Prom King runner-up is Hanschen Rilow! Let's give it up for Hanschen!" The student body president—Max von Trenk—was involved in theatre like Hanschen, and everyone _loved_ Hanschen—even though he only cared about Ernst—so of course the cheers were much more than they had been for the other three announcements.

Ernst screamed Hanschen's name, clapping wildly for his boyfriend. Hanschen grinned and squeezed Ernst's shoulder before heading up to the stage to be crowned. The cheering went on for a good deal of time, and Ernst was probably the last person to stop clapping.

Ernst was still smiling when he turned to Moritz. "Well, that's awesome! But where are Melchior and Wendla? Didn't they drive you here?"

Moritz looked dejected. "Yeah, they did. I guess they left without me." _Being forgotten, cool, what a surprise._ Melchior was his best friend, but he could be a bit of an idiot sometimes when it came to being distracted by Wendla.

Ernst frowned. "Well, my mom is here. You can come stay the night with me, if you want."

Moritz thought about it, then smiled. A real smile. "Sure. If it's, um, no trouble."

Ernst smiled back. "Not at all! You can come to church with us tomorrow. It'll be fun!"

Moritz didn't know if he considered church fun, but it would be better going with Ernst's family than his own. "Okay. Sounds good."

Soon after Hanschen came back, and then everyone else to get their things and say their goodbyes. It wasn't long before Moritz was following Hanschen and Ernst outside.

"I'll see you tomorrow, darling. Check your phone later." Hanschen hugged Ernst goodbye, the most they could do without getting looked at oddly by the other students or teachers. Hanschen wasn't ashamed of anything, but he respected Ernst's desire to not be… _out_.

Moritz pretended not to hear, not wanting to think about what he was going to send Ernst, but the term darling did make him wish someone was calling _him_ that. Not Hanschen, though. Hanschen was kind of a dick to Moritz in particular. A really hot and charming dick, sure, but still a dick.

Martha came up after Hanschen had gotten into his own car, her ride also being with Ernst's mother. Hanschen was off to the after party that Moritz suspected Melchior was already at after dropping Wendla off at her house and forgetting him.

"Hey, Moritz," Martha said with a small wave before looking down at her phone once again.

"Come on, my mom is parked over here," Ernst said, leading the two of them to his mom's Subaru parked at the edge of the lot.

Ernst got in the middle with Martha and Moritz squeezed in on either side of him. Mrs. Robel had a no-front-seat policy when it came to minors. Moritz's knees dug into the back seat, his body much too gangly and awkward to be stuck in such a small place.

"So, how was the dance?" Mrs. Robel asked giddily, looking in the rearview mirror. "I'm glad you're coming over, Moritz!"

"Um, the dance was okay," was all he said in a voice that cracked, and for some reason tears began to well up in his eyes. He looked out the window, hoping no one would notice.

"And how about you two? Did you do a lot of dancing?" 

Martha gave Ernst a quick glance which seemed to confirm their premeditated lies. "Yes, it was fun. We left room for Jesus, of course," she joked. "A lot of room. You would've liked the music they picked, Mrs. Robel."

She laughed. "Perfect! Well, I'm glad everyone had fun. And I'm glad the three of you aren't doing anything naughty like some of these children! I swear I saw someone engaging with someone else in their car!"

Ernst's face got red. "Please, Mama."

"Oh, sorry, Ernst." Mrs. Robel looked in the rearview mirror again. "Are you okay, sweetie? Moritz?"

Moritz's eyes filled with tears again as he responded. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

He was very tired—tired of life in general, actually, but something about this situation in particular made him feel even more stupid than usual. He didn't want to go back to school on Monday, and he didn't want to go back home the next morning and get made fun of by his parents for the stains on his pants and for his answers when they would undoubtedly grill him about what he did at the dance.

"Well, alright, but if you need anything at home, let me know." Mrs. Robel smiled at him and he returned it weakly, trying to pretend that Martha and Ernst weren't staring at him three inches away. Mrs. Robel turned on some Christian rock and started humming to it.

Moritz wiped his eyes on his sleeves, trying not to burst into tears for no reason. He got a text then and looked at his phone; it was from Melchior. 

_im so ducking sorry dude im on my way back im sorry dude fuck ill be there in 15 i had to take wendla home real quick_

Moritz laughed slightly, his spirits somewhat lifted by the fact that he'd at least remembered. The text itself was comical, and he could picture Melchior frantically shouting it to Siri while he raced back to the venue.

He turned his camera on and turned it towards Martha and Ernst. "I'm sending this to Melchior," he said, and Martha threw up a peace sign. Moritz's face was barely in the frame but he sent it anyway without an explanation, assuming that Melchior would realize what was going on.

They got to Martha's house in no time, and she bid them goodnight. With her gone, Ernst slid over and Moritz could spread his legs more.

"Hey, when we get back to my house, you wanna watch _Mamma Mia_?" Ernst asked with a grin; sure, musicals weren't Moritz's favorite, but Ernst had forced him to watch that movie so many times it was kind of their thing at this point.

"Don't stay up too late! We have church at ten," Mrs. Robel warned from the front seat, but her smile didn't leave her face.

Ernst gave Moritz a look as if to say, _can you believe this woman_? "We won't, Mama. So, do you want to?"

Moritz smiled at his friend. Maybe prom hadn't turned out _so_ bad.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to follow me @hanschhen on tumblr!


End file.
